The Mountains Like Stars
by The Carnivorous Muffin
Summary: Azrael thinks on his role as the emperor of Ubik and his desperate avoidance of responsibility. Side fic to October


**Author's Note: To those of you about to read this I offer fair warning that this is a side fic to the very heavily AU fic "October", if you haven't read that I don't think you'll be able to keep up with this. That being said feel free to do what you like.**

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When the sun caught the edge of the distant mountains they always glittered, their light catching in his eyes until it seemed as if there was nothing else to stare at, as if there was only the red glinting in the distance.

He often found himself sitting in the fields, past the edge of town where no one cared to look, blue flowers swaying in the breeze like pale stars that had somehow drifted into the planet. And every time he was there he found himself thinking how very different it all was from the original Martian Colonies.

They had had their own beauty but it was a beauty that came from destruction and decay, from smokestacks and smoky haze and the sky going dark, it was a terrible beauty one that spoke of the end of things.

But now the sky was very clear, and each time he looked at it it seemed as if no one had touched it at all, and he always wondered how things had progressed to this point.

His moments of introspection, taken whenever he could find a moment between placating diplomats, spies, citizens, and everyone else who demanded his full attention, were often spent out there thinking on the past and how much things had changed.

As if it truly had been overwritten.

Of course, some things never would change.

Responsibility still chafed at him. No matter if it was Harry Potter, Death, or the Emperor of Ubik he hated the spotlight and the incessant need that everyone felt to look to him for answers. He didn't know why this was, he liked to believe that he used the power he had to the best of his ability, but all the same these titles always made him uncomfortable as if even by owning them he was somehow abusing them or else failing to live up to them.

His shadow was greater than he was and every time he turned around it seemed to be just a little bit larger.

It had been very refreshing to be Azrael, he hadn't realized it at the time, but he'd liked just being able to lurk in the background. To take his exams, to wander the castle, to sit and think and have no one look to him for answers or guidance or even salvation; these were freedoms he'd never had before as if he was like anyone else.

Of course, even Azrael wasn't like anyone else, but it was probably the closest he would ever come to that strange dream of normality.

Whenever he was exhausted he found himself thinking back to his second, anticlimactic, run through Hogwarts and he found that he wasn't disappointed at all by what it had offered him.

Things were not so simple on Ubik.

Sometimes when he wandered the streets he heard whispers that he was the messiah, the prophesized savior of humanity and avatar of God, and that they were waiting for him to just come out and say it; as if that was something that could just be said.

There was a certain religious fervor that followed him, even among the athiests, because how else could anyone but a god do what he had done? And the terrible thing was that he didn't have a true answer to that, that he himself feared to answer it, because what if they were right?

He had always been careful of what he said regarding religion but there were whispers all the same.

Even Tom, he would catch Tom looking at him oddly from time to time, sliding in comments into conversation as if to catch him in some lie.

There were other matters that occupied his time, the council would ask his opinion on the educational system, on the university, on creating new buildings, extending the library, on setting up communications and businesses back with Earth, and he'd make time to think and regard these things.

It was always the religion that occupied his mind the most, always lurking in the corner of his thoughts, like some dread spider beckoning him into its parlor.

There were synagouges, there were churches, there were temples, as new desperate citizens came pouring in the city expanded and new places of worship would spring up. And yet, he'd find himself thinking as he walked through, and yet they all had that Ubiquitous tinge to them one that he couldn't quite define but inexplicably led back to hin.

He had played the savior once before and he had found the spotlight almost blinding.

Children would stop him in the streets and with smiling faces would ask him to perform small bits of magic. Parlor tricks, to make butterflies out of light, or else pale blue fires that somehow managed to light an entire room.

How much of the light in their eyes was gratitude, childish wonderment, happiness, and how much of it was true devotion?

He didn't know; it was hard to tell.

And so he'd find time for himself, often when it seemed that there wasn't time for himself, to sit and think and reflect on the missing smokestacks and the world he had created in its place.

Tom was right, as much as it would have pained Harry James Potter to admit it Tom was often right, he could no longer be Azrael.

The time to be someone unimportant, someone who stared at life through windows, had passed and it had been his decision to make. In the end he had stepped through the curtain and onto the stage; it was important to remember that.

Still, wasn't it strange how uncomfortable it still made him?

He would always feel like a man dressed in clothes that were far too large for his thin and altogether unimpressive frame.

Perhaps there was such a thing as destiny after all.

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**Author's Note: This was for the 700th review of October by Valiant which asked for a fic describing what Azrael has been doing in Ubik now that he and Tom don't see each other that much. That turned out to be surprisingly hard to answer but I hope this suffices. At any rate thanks for reading and reviews are much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**


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